A Twisted Tower {Solo}

[Nevin]

The region was shrouded in, not mystery, but rumors and myths. Everyone who had talked about it spoke about what had happened three years ago. A massive explosion had rocked the surrounding area, disrupting a lot of normal folks’ lives - and the tower that had been in the region for decades was just ruined, a shattered edifice that had clearly been damaged in the blast. Beyond that - strange plants and creatures had begun appearing in the surroundings, distorted and warped versions of normal animals that spread out and rapidly pushed out the mundane counterparts.

Those were the things everyone knew. But there were more things that they had no idea on. What had caused the blast? Some failed experiment of the Mage who had lived there, an old man who nobody could remember the name of? Or had he been attacked by a rival magic user? Or worse, had a deity decided that the mortal man was reaching too far, and had decided to put him down before he stepped into territory where none should tread?

And the creatures and plants - what were they? Were they magical? Mundane, but warped? Was there some new kind of race hiding in the region, protected by the dangerous beasts that now roamed? The questions seemed to outweigh the answers.

For Nevin, two questions had driven him to this place. First, were the new plants and creatures different enough to possess different alchemical properties? While this drive to explore and know more about alchemical things had bitten him before, he found that even then he could not resist the allure of learning more.

To make matters worse for his personal resistance against coming to this place and exploring it, the Mage who had lived here was rumored to have been highly skilled in several arcane arts - including Alchemy. And this interested Nevin greatly. If he could find texts or documents on transmutative Alchemy that had survived the explosion, then he could finally start making progress on learning the magical side of Alchemy himself - which would advance him in leaps and bounds in his profession.

So here he had come, to one of the furthest, most remote regions of Corone’s isles, and now he was staring into the thick woods that surrounded the ruined tower. He could already see signs of mutation and change in the vegetation around here. Some of the trees were absolutely massive, far larger than they should have been with only a few years of growth. Their size wasn't the only thing that was decidedly wrong to the eye either, they were also discolored, not a lot, but with his years of experience and exposure to different forests and woods, he knew trees shouldn't be this color. They were too… Red, too purpled.

The other vegetation here suffered the same effects. Normal plants were larger than should have been possible - rosemary bushes that rivaled normal trees, briarpatches that had spines growing longer than some daggers would be, other herbs and hay just looking at, Nevin knew did not carry their normal properties. He was actually decidedly hesitant about trying to gather any samples from this place in fact; too much was changed and went. There was too high a chance of mixing one of these distorted samples up with a normal plant, and that would either ruin his potion or turn it into something entirely different.

[Nevin]

He also didn't want to accidentally ruin the efforts of the locals by spreading the ‘contamination” that they had quite vehemently warned him about. Apparently, the changes in life in the forest had been noticed, but at first ignored - until someone saw that it was expanding at a frantic rate, like a Wildfire spreading through the woods.

The response had been to cut a burn-mark area. A dozen yards or so all around the affected area, the woods were cut and burned down completely the ground salted so nothing more could grow. This prevented the plants from spreading their ‘corruption’ further, and for the animals two things were in play.

First, it was noticed that the changed animals did not tend to stray far from the affected plant life. Secondly, patrols of concerned citizens traveled around the area every so often, armed with long pikes and crossbows, weapons to kill the twisted creatures from afar. This seemed to be enough to keep the majority of the mutations inside the danger zone, but every so often a random animal or plant that had been changed would pop up outside the burned area, and that would spur a fresh wave of concern about the spreading corruption.

This was all lodged in the back of Nevin’s mind as he sat at the outside edge of the salted earth, chewing on a piece of jerky as he stared at the twisted trees ahead of him. He was almost tempted to call it off, to not go exploring in this place - but even if he wasn't looking for the plants, the potential alchemical texts that this place might hold would be worth more than their weight in gold to him.

No, no. Into the twisted forest he would go. Hopefully his preparations would be sufficient - at least he was alone, so if he had to defend himself with blood magic or his blood-threads he could do it without accidentally exposing himself. No one came to this place anymore as it was, so he was fairly certain he'd be the only person in there unless someone followed him in. With a sigh, he swallowed the chewed up remnants of meat with a wash of water, capping off the water skin and resecuring it to his belt.

He only had enough food and water for a couple of days at most before he would have to either leave, or forage. And staring at the distorted foliage ahead of him, the Alchemist did not in the least feel inclined to taste the vegetation. He was also a bit concerned that it might try to taste him.

[Nevin]

Crossing the area of dead earth, bereft of living plants, was a bit unsettling, not at helped by the view of just what it was that he was trying to reach with this ill-fated trip. The woods ahead of him, less than a few yards away now, seemed surreal. They were out of place, not quite right - they looked like someone had transplanted an alien forest right here, and then completely forgotten about it.

Nevin entered the woods cautiously, one hand resting on his whip. While it wasn't a weapon with which a normal person could easily snag a kill, he could quite handily defend himself with it - it did have the rather unfortunate, for its victims at least, tendency to draw blood into itself, and Nevin could enhance that quality by running thin crimson threads from his hand along it's length. The hungry threads would draw blood out from the wounds, and the Plynt barbs would absorb it. All in all, while he wouldn't be killing most things with one blow, the pain of the barbed whip, plus whatever drainage occurred… It would have to be a ridiculously determined beastie that kept coming after one or two lashes.

No, that wasn't accurate. Who knew - the animals in these woods might not have normal pain receptors anymore. He would have to exercise caution - while gathering a sample or two, to keep in a glass container for later study, might be enjoyable, and indeed his fingers were itching towards his dagger to do just that - his primary objective lay beyond these woods.

That blasted, enigmatic tower. Even now, he could see the ruined top of the tower piercing up through the treetops, thankfully orienting him as he trudged through the woods. It was a damn good thing, as the trees and plants in this place didn't grow right. Impossible to notice from outside, Nevin could now see that many of the signs travelers used to guide them were just wrong. Moss grew in every which way, not just on the northern face of rocks, rivers flowed in contradictory patterns within themselves.

If he didn't have that visible landmark to guide him, Nevin would most definitely have gotten lost, even worse than his luck normally had him. This place could quite easily entrap someone for ages in here, and if weather conditions got worse he could see people wandering the woods until they died. The alchemist took a deep breath, and pressed onwards, fighting his way through the ever thickening woods.

[Nevin]

He heard the beast long before he saw it. The thing was crashing through the woods, smashing through trees as it ambled about. Nevin had thrown himself up against a tree and was currently peering around it, looking at the beast that lumbered on the other side.

The thing looked like a deer, but wrong, so very, very wrong. This creature was easily twice the size of a normal deer, and Nevin could see why it was able to knock over young trees as it swung overly large antlers against them. What was worse to his eyes was the frothy drool dripping from its opened mouth - a sign of insanity, rabies. Just what he needed to deal with, a beast that by its very insanity wouldn't pay attention to the pain that his whip would inflict on it.

Then a tremor of unease and disbelief wormed down the alchemist’s spine. The deer-thing turned its slavering mouth to the side and opened it, a strange screeching growl hissing forth. And the teeth, the teeth. Deer were herbivores, plant eaters that masticated their food. This thing though, plants were not on its menu. No, this thing had razor sharp teeth that were flecked red and white, the frothy foam of its rabies stained with blood.

Any doubts Nevin might have had about the urgency of keeping the strange magical corruption in this area contained were now completely abolished. There was no way this creature belonged in this world, it's very existence spat in the face of everything that was normal. When he left this place, he would need to see about gathering a group to exterminate the unnatural beings that were populating these woods.

And then he froze in place, as the mock-deer’s head swiveled towards him, it's wide nostrils flaring. Disbelief battled with the evidence of what he was seeing - the creature was now approaching the tree he was occluded by, the foam around its mouth thickening as its lungs pumped with exertion. The blasted thing could smell him, no doubt. Whatever mockery of nature had spawned this thing had twisted it to its grisly function.

So. He could already tell the damn thing could run faster than him, but at least the trees would slow it down somewhat. He needed to get somewhere he could bait it into charges and evade it - he needed a clearing, one with enough space to fight it. Thankfully he was close to the base of the tower - Nevin could see it through the trees beyond the slowly approaching monstrosity. He took a deep breath and steeled himself.

crunch. Whuff. Whuff. Skree- the beast was there, on one side of the tree, and some of its drool fell onto his arm. Nevin twisted and ran, sprinting around the other side of the tree as the beast screeched and tried to bite him. The hot breath of the mock-deer washed over his back and the alchemist heard a clicking snap as its teeth clashed together, just barely missing his back - but he was away, unhurt for the moment, and he stumbled for a moment before he picked up speed, bursting through the tree line into the wide clearing around the base of the tower.

He had made it. But now, he could hear the monstrosity coming, hooves pounding as it charged after him. Nevin spun, flicking his whip from its holster, and prepared himself.

[Nevin]

It broke through the treeline with a terrible noise, a rippling bellow that sent demented birds flying from the nearby trees. It tore down a tree, smashing it down as it pelted across the red-orange grass towards the man who continued to stand his ground. Each hoofbeat sent a shower of dirt spraying up behind it as Nevin stared down the oncoming beast. As soon as it was in range he lashed out with the whip, cracking the barbed weapon across its face.

The thing screeched as it reared back and Nevin threw himself to the side, ducking into a roll. Mighty hooves crashed down - but the man wasn't there anymore. He had managed to throw himself far enough that the mock-deer missed him in its attack. Nevin rolled back to his feet as the beast shrieked and pawed the earth. Again he cracked his whip, barbs digging into the flank of the deer thing, and this time, watching, Nevin could see his whip absorb some of the thick red blood of the beast.

It bled. He could kill it.

And now that he knew he could hurt it, it was only a matter of time, and keeping himself from being bitten by the beast. While he could cure the onset of rabies, it would necessitate leaving the woods. And he didn't know if he could force himself to come back in if he had to leave. No, it would be best if he took this out here and now, without being injured.

So back and forth the two danced, Nevin narrowly avoiding the snapping teeth and stamping hooves, his whip drinking deep of the flesh. In the end blood was actually flowing out of the whip, dripping from the weapon, as the massive deer-creature had more blood than the amount of Plynt that he had could hold. But still the slavering beast fought, its motions growing more and more sluggish as Nevin’s whip drank deeply of its life fluid.

But even the mightiest of living beasts can only survive so long losing blood as rapidly as this thing was. It stumbled a moment longer than it should have, and the Alchemist seized the opportunity. With a snap of his wrist, the barbed whip wrapped around the mock-deer’s throat, barbs of metal cruelly cutting into its flesh as Nevin hauled back on his arm. It let out a shuddering screech that echoed through the woods as it fell to its knees, blood that hadn't been soaked up by the Plynt gushing from the jagged tear around its neck.

It tried to rise back up, but the monstrosity was done for. It pushed one foot upright - and over balanced, landing with a heavy thud on the ground on its side. It snapped weakly with its sharp teeth as Nevin walked over to it, and he could see that even now, as death gripped it, the madness still filled its eyes. Madness and hatred, as it tried to lunge for him. Nevin grimly shook his head, and coils of red threads emerged from his arm, spiraling together into a solid point - almost like an oversized pick head. He brought his arm up, and stabbed downwards, piercing through the soft tissue of its throat.

[Nevin]

Nevin sat against the cooling body for a long few minutes. He had already found that the strange beast had enough life force to fuel two Essences being crafted from its blood - one he formed was of Vitality, seeking to capture the strength of life that had kept the beast going for so long. The other was…. An Essence of Insanity, or Madness. He had tried to capture its rabid ferocity, but the madness had come out stronger. This was an Essence he would save for a fight against a more intelligent, dangerous opponent - one he couldn't afford to have thinking.

After harvesting the Essences, he had collected as much of the spilled blood as he could, using his threads and his barbed whip to gather more from the body. This blood was then condensed, consolidated into thin plates, chunks of red that looked almost like metal in their consistency. These plates of blood were tucked into a pouch on his belt - they would come in handy if he needed blood for something and didn't want to chop himself up for it.

Now though, he was sitting, back against the slain beast, and staring absently at the tower that he had come far to reach. His mind was actually on the fight, not on what lay before him.

He had come a long way from the desperate man who had had to fight for his life against a lizard, even if it did spit acid. He had learned much since then, and had done his best to control the flow of the battle. Admittedly not a hard task against a creature that could not think, but then again it hadn't needed to - its sheer overwhelming might would have seen it victorious against many foes.

Not that it helped against him. In fact, if Nevin hadn't been concerned with testing out his whip against someone he wasn't afraid to hurt, he would have been able to finish it even faster, after the first blood had been spilled. Cut it open, make it bleed, then use its own blood against it, shooting it… NoNo, that wasn't the most efficient way he could have fought. But he had needed to prove it to himself, prove that his decision to fight with a barbed whip wasn't stupid, and that he could defend himself and kill his foes with it. So far he had mostly used it for displays to keep himself safe - it was good to know that it was indeed a viable weapon.

Though he hadn't counted on there being so much blood that the Plynt couldn't hold it all. Hmm. He might have to see about upgrading the whip at some point. Maybe get some kind of weight for the end, or changing the grip of the handle? Or he could just siphon excess blood off with his thread in the future. It had almost made the weapon to slick to hold, and if he hadn't kept the thing in his hand with crimson threads anchoring it in place it might have been messier.

Still. The fight was done, and he had won. He would leave the desiccated carcass here, for whatever scavengers lived in this area, and face his true goal. Exploring the tower, and seeing what secrets of Alchemy he might uncover. With a sigh, Nevin stood up and dusted himself off, and headed for the tower entrance.

[Nevin]

The tower’s door hung open, the gaping entrance sending a shiver down Nevin’s spine. He could swear there was a chill in the air, completely at odds with the muggy atmosphere of the later afternoon. The light from the setting sun barely pierced the gloom of the interior that the man could see - illuminating only a few feet through the archway, showing bare cobblestones and a worn door that hung crooked from its hinges.

Nevin rummaged in his pack for a few moments, pulling out a slender torch and a striker set. A few sharp clacks of flint against metal and the head of the torch caught, flame blazing bright as he set the striker back in his bag. He stood up and slung the pack onto his back and took a deep breath, gripping the torch tight in his left hand, right hand holding the hilt of his whip as he strode through the damaged archway.

The torch’s fire cast the hallway into sharp relief as Nevin looked around. The oppressive chill still clung in the air, almost like something was watching and didn't appreciate his presence in the least. He fought down a nervous swallow and tightened his grip as he examined the hall. The dust of years sat heavy on the ground - but there, very faintly, there were tracks in the dust, like someone had long ago disturbed a part of it, but the footprints only went in one direction, out.

So someone had been here, and left, since the devastation of the tower. Interesting to note, as the townsfolk firmly believed no one could survive here. Maybe sometime later he would see if he could find the person who’d been here - who knows what they had seen so long ago? But that was a concern for later, not today. For now, he had to keep his eyes open for anything dangerous. Or anything he could use to further his Alchemy.

The hallway yielded nothing further to his searching eyes beyond the tracks in the dust. Ahead of him lay a stairway leading upwards, a couple of doors leading off to the sides, and a hatch that was firmly locked. He frowned - he wanted to get down there, but it looked like… cautiously, the Alchemist approached the hatch slowly, his eyes sliding across the doorways as he passed them.

One led into a decrepit kitchen, the prep table rotted half away by time. Even from here in the hall, Nevin could smell putrid food, things that had obviously suffered the passage of time very poorly. He wouldn't go in there if he could help it, he didn't think he could stand the odor any closer.

The other was a small bedroom, and Nevin did take the time to duck in here. There was a tiny wardrobe, though the clothing in it looked like it hadn't been used even longer than this place had been abandoned. There was a bed, that seemed like at some point animals had made a nest there, but aside from droppings and some tufts of fur, nothing remained of them. The final thing of note was a small desk and chair - and in the drawer of the desk, he found a tattered journal. Nevin’s eyes widened as he set the book down and began flipping through it, trying to see what he could decipher from the ravages of time.

[Nevin]

.....reth is a strict taskmaster, but fair. I don’t know why people seem to have trouble understanding that. Yes, he asks for a lot from those of us who he has hired, but at the same time, he pays well and he gives us a lot of freedom in completing our duties. So long as we don’t interfere with his work, he tends to ignore us as long as our jobs are done…..
….ear, something strange is going on. The other day………... looked like he had coughed up some blood. It scared us all, but it just seemed to infuriate him. Since then, he’s gotten a lot worse about watching over us. I think he’s getting ready to fire one of us - he’s been asking us all who thinks they could handle another person’s duties on top of their own. I can only think of one reason he’d be asking that. Sti….

Nevin frowned as he tapped one foot against the ground. The book was damp with mold and yellow with age, and large stretches of it were completely illegible. Still, the writing, where it was visible, was mostly clear and crisp, so as long as there wasn’t water damage or mold, he could read the text. He couldn’t tell though if the author was male or female - the wardrobe behind him was no help either, as it contained a mix of clothes for a servant of either gender. He pressed on, casting a glance towards the door to the hall before he continued to read.

...ting weirder. He’s asking for stranger and stranger things - asking us if we know anything about old folklore, or things like necromancy. He’s always been a bit odd, but this is starting to go beyond the pale. I’m no Salvarian, but I can’t say that I’m comfortable working with someone who is delving into places where man is not meant to tread….

….abeth says that he’s been hounding her for information about the Fae, since her family has passed on a lot of myths about them. Honestly it’s a bit of a relief - his obsession with the Fair Folk has distracted him from dealing with the dead. Still, I’m not sure what’s going on with him. There’s this franti…..

…….. Turl is gone. Three now, that’s all that are left. Myself, Elizabeth, and the cook Rikson. There’s a theme here, sadly, and it distresses me greatly. Beth is crucial to him - she knows about the Fae. Rikson is apparently the person who was telling him things about necromancy - odd for a cook to know, but still……..gave him my primer on alchemy. He’s asked me a few things about the subject, but I feel that he will soon be passing me in that. What will that mea…..

This had taken a foul turn, and Nevin wasn’t sure he liked where it was going. That only the people directly useful to this strange ‘he’ that was being referred to kept their jobs was mildly distressing. A few more pages turned, before he found more legible text.

….the Thaynes! I went into town for some supplies. I happened to ask about the others - I figured Beth was sticking around, even without working for ……. Liked the region.

None of the villagers have seen them at all! I couldn’t believe it, so I asked everyone I could find. No one. NONE of my old coworkers have been seen at all, not in months. I’m the only one they’ve seen come from the tower in a long time, and they’re just waiting for the day I stop showing up.

I have to get out. He’s learned almost everything I know. And now I know, as soon as he’s used us up, he gets rid of us. I have to leave, tonight. I’m getting out of here before I conveniently go missing as well. If someone else finds this, a new hire -

Get. Out. Now. It’s a trap. I know he won’t come here, he never bothered with these quarters. But he’ll only keep you as long as you have a use to him, and after that, you’ll be gone. No one will ever see you again. Leave now, go back to your loved ones, it is not worth the pay and the benefits. Leave now, and live. I just hope I’ve decided to leave in time.

[Nevin]

The notes ended there, Nevin found. Flipping further and further in showed nothing further written in the pages , just blank sheets that had been destroyed with age and mildew. He sank down into the chair and stared blankly at the journal. He closed his eyes and sent up a silent prayer, hoping that whatever poor soul had been writing in this book had managed to escape from what was apparently the descent into madness of their employer. Or, in the worst case, that they had rejoined the Great Flow, and that the next cycle of life would treat them better than this one had.

Slowly he stood up, gripping the torch tight, and closed the book. He didn’t know if anyone else would ever venture here, but this book was an important relic of the place, telling of the fall of the master of the place, and he would leave it for the next traveler, explorer to find when they went through this place on their own. For now - it would remain here, a grim cliffhanger on the writer’s fate. He took a deep breath and slipped out of the servant’s quarters, and looked down the hall towards the entrance.

It would be easy, he knew. So easy to leave, get out of this place now. Leave it behind, get back into the sunshine and out of the unnatural chill that still hung round him despite the torch burning in his hand. Just a few steps away, and he could get away from the madness that had consumed the mysterious man who had once controlled the place. The Alchemist exhaled mightily and shook his head. That wasn’t possible - those notes had mentioned a primer on Alchemy, and it was apparently the last of the three subjects that the demented owner of this place had been working on learning which meant that he doubted it was just herbal alchemy. No, this seemed to be a primer on magical Alchemy - which meant Nevin needed to find the primer.

So further in he would go, exploring the ruins of this place. Whatever was here, he needed to learn it and further himself - and possibly put an end to an abomination of alchemy. The study and usage of alchemy he didn’t mind at all - he himself made some rather unusual things - but causing some kind of explosion? Not cleaning up afterwards - that was inexcusable. Though he was a bit interested in what had been done to cause the explosion - was that alchemy? Or one of the other branches of magic?

A chill ran along his skin as he thought about the other two subjects that had been mentioned in the notebook. Necromancy wasn’t something he cared much about - it would be hypocritical for him to be upset about something that was considered dark magic considering what blood magic normally fell under the classification as. But the Fae? That was an entirely different matter.

The Fae were dangerous from everything Nevin had ever heard and studied. After the issues with Fenn and his strange request, Nevin had gone off on a studying rampage, trying to figure out everything he could about the enigmatic beings. And what he had learned was almost universally categorized as:

Don’t fuck with them.

Deals with them were always in their favor if you didn’t have some kind of obscene advantage over the beings. They’d hide information, set up situations with schemes far beyond what mortals could comprehend, use magicks that only the best mortal mages could hope to match. But. They would be bound by deals they made, so if you could find a way to get them to agree to something, you could trust that they would adhere to the letter of the bargain, if not the spirit.

Was that what had happened here? Had the master of the tower, in his desperation to evade whatever was coming for him - the coughing of blood sounded like an illness, or age possibly - was he dying - made a deal with a Fae? And that deal had come back to bite him, in a rather spectacularly destructive way? It would make sense, especially with the twisted reality outside - the Fae were notorious for not dealing with the real world the same way that others did, and slipping between worlds with far more ease than most mortals could ever manage. He took a deep breath, and looked around the end of the hallway.

The stairway up - and he could see a couple of floors above - and the hatch leading down into a presumed basement. He hesitated - and decided to use some acidic substances to melt the lock before continuing upwards, to see what was above him first. The basement could come last, after he’d seen what had happened in the damaged areas above. So up he went, climbing the stairs as he headed upwards.

[Nevin]

While the bottom floor hadn't seemed to be too damaged by anything other than the passage of time, up on this floor he could definitely see signs of the blast having shaken the tower. Masonry had been dislodged in a few places, forcing him to climb over chunks of fallen rock as he made his way through the corridor. There were only a couple of doors on this level, making him wonder if the master of this place had been frugal, or just cheap.

Whichever was the case, didn't matter. What did matter was the result - each of the rooms on this floor took up a half of the building. Nevin pushed his way past the rubble to one door, then had to climb over a half-destroyed doorway to see what was beyond. He cursed as a splinter of wood pierced his hand, stabbing straight through his glove. After perching on the stone - doing his best not to fall - he carefully peeled the glove off, wincing as pulling the leather from his hand made the piece of wood gouge in deeper.

With several deep breaths to prepare himself, Nevin grabbed the wood and twisted it, ripping it free from his body as he bit his lip hard to stifle a scream. He didn't know if there was something else still alive in this place, but he did not want to alert something like that twisted dear while he was recovering from this. A quick glance at the hand showed blood pooling in his palm - and then more disturbing to him, but also strangely right, was the fact that a few threads had emerged from his skin and had slipped into the pool of blood. As he watched with a kind of horrified fascination, the threads gently absorbed his blood, then wove themselves into the gash on his hand, sealing the wound shut.

Well. That was new. Nevin stood up on slightly shaky legs, waving his hand to dispel the phantom stinging. The ‘sealed’ wound didn't hurt at all - despite the fact that before his threads had inserted themselves into it there had been a fiery pain emanating from it. That actually bothered him more than the wound itself - did the threads carry a contact analgesic? Were they actually torturous to have in his skin, but they negated the pain as fast as they caused it, so he never noticed? He would have to figure out some way of testing this so far every time someone had actually touched the threads, it had been in combat. Maybe there was something about them that he had never known. But who on Althanas would he ask to test this?

“Hey, I need to rub my threads against you to see if they have any numbing agents in them. Could you be helpful and just let me do that?” Oh yes, that would go over SO well with people. No, he'd have to find someone he could test it on he could trust. Which was a dreadfully short list.

Bah, this was neither here nor there at the moment! He was exploring an abandoned, blown up, mage’s tower - he didn't have the luxury of not paying attention to his surroundings right now! Nevin shook his head with a growl and looked around, finally trying to see what kind of a room he had ended up in.